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She's a four-year-old girl, and people (especially her Dad) insist she's a boy.
Not that she isn't sometimes. She is. But not today! Today she's a girl. And Dad keeps saying that's not true, that God made her body perfect and she shouldn't second-guess God's plan for her. God made her a boy, so she's supposed to be a boy. And on the one hand that kinda makes sense. God doesn't make mistakes, right? So if she were really a girl sometimes, then she'd... what? Her body would change, she guesses. But on the other hand, she knows she's a girl. She's a girl with a peepee, that's obvious. She'd prefer not having a peepee when she's a girl, but it's not the worst thing ever. And if God doesn't make mistakes, God also didn't make her feel like a girl sometimes on accident, right? It must be part of His (because God is always a He, even though God made everyone, boys and girls, in His image, he's always a He, Dad says) plan.
She tells Dad that, today, and Dad gets angry, and yells at her, and she doesn't know why he's yelling. It makes sense to her! But he won't explain why she's wrong, he's just yelling, Dad's so mean, she hates him, and she's not crying, shut up, you're crying!
And now Mum's coming and she's talking to Dad, and that usually makes Dad stop yelling and go away but he won't stop now and Sadde's angry and afraid and hurt and she's running away. A part of her thinks that it doesn't make much sense to run away, the park is pretty open and she can't really hide anywhere, and she'll have to go back because she'll get hungry (not now, though, she just ate a sandwich).
So she runs until she finds some bushes where she can hide, and she hides there, and she doesn't cry, and she spends a long time not crying. Mum and Dad don't come after her, though, and after she's done not crying she doesn't wipe her eyes and her nose, and she comes out the other way of the bushes she was hiding in.
And she's pretty sure that's not the park.
It is indeed not the park! It's a thicket very unlike the park, from one of whose bushes Sadde just emerged.
But she won't, of course. She just found a magic portal, what kind of person finds a magic portal and doesn't go exploring?
(The answer is the kind of person she is not. She is the kind of person who does go exploring.)
He does not make his presence known, and watches the small mortal from afar.
She finds a bush with some strange berries she's never seen before on it. She isn't hungry, but they sure look tasty, and she didn't get dessert-
"I wouldn't eat those if I were you," the blue person calls, emerging from his hiding spot.
"Mortals shouldn't eat fey food," he explains, flying down closer to her (but not within arm's reach—his or hers) and peering. "I'd always thought mortals were bigger."
"I'm a what?" he asks, scratching his head.
"An angel," she repeats. "Dad says they're God's messengers, but—he never said they were blue."
"I don't know who that is," he says. "I'm a fairy."
"...yes, we do."
"Oh," she says. Apparently that was convincing enough evidence as far as she's concerned. "Are all fairies blue?"
"No, only some. My kind of fairy is, and some others."
The fairy finally lands, sitting cross-legged on the grass.
"Yes. She knows everyone's names." He looks at her. "Well, maybe not yours."
"You're not a fairy."
"It's her magic. Do all mortals ask this many questions?"
"I don't think so, Dad says I ask too many questions for my own good. And adults don't like to answer all my questions. You're nice. What's your name?"
"I can't tell you my name!"